


Stay

by whiskeyandlonging



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drinking, F/M, First Aid, Injury, Reader Insert, sweet smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandlonging/pseuds/whiskeyandlonging
Summary: When you’re injured on a hunt, Dean realizes just how much you need each other.





	Stay

Deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

You tried to focus your attention on your breath, slow even inhales and exhales in the backseat of the Impala. It was proving difficult though; the pain from the wound in your arm continued to demand your attention. You turned your gaze to the fields flying past outside the car, looking for anything to distract yourself.

“Not much longer, Oakley,” Dean muttered from the front seat. You knew he was just saying that for the sake of saying something. The ride back from the hunt had been nearly silent thus far, something he knew made you anxious. You nodded in response, knowing full well he was watching you from the rearview mirror.

When the bunker came into view less than an hour later, you released a sigh of relief you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You followed Sam and Dean to the trunk and reached for your duffel, but Sam beat you to it.

“I got it,” he told you with a nod to your injured arm. You muttered a thanks under your breath and led the way into the bunker. Through the war room, past the library, down the halls to the only room you’d ever called your own. You closed the door quietly behind yourself, and took a deep breath.

You steeled yourself and began gingerly prying the blood-soaked shirt from your left arm, wincing at the slight pull of the fabric against the torn skin. With as little movement as possible, you lifted the shirt over your head before tossing it in the corner of the room. There was no use in keeping it.

You had just begun slipping your arm carefully through one of Dean’s flannels you had adopted over the last few months when a soft knock sounded at your door.

“Yeah?” You didn’t bother turning around. You knew who it was.

The knob turned and Dean opened the door slowly, peering inside before stepping through and closing the door quietly behind himself. “Don’t put that on yet, Oakley.”

“Huh?” You turned around, confused, until you saw the first aid kit in his hands. “Oh.” You let the flannel fall from your shoulder and dropped it to the floor. Dean sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to himself. You sighed and took hesitant steps to his side and sat carefully.

Dean took your arm gently in his calloused hands and leaned in to inspect your wound. “Might need a few stitches. Won’t be able to tell until it’s cleaned up, though.” He left your side and searched through your night table, looking for the fifth of whiskey he knew you kept hidden for nights when the nightmares became too much. He smirked triumphantly when he found it. You looked at him in disbelief.

“How did you-”

“You’re not as sneaky as you think.” You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed quiet. “Let me see,” Dean said as he uncapped the whiskey. He took your arm in his hand again, a bit more firmly this time. You grit your teeth as he poured the amber liquid over your wound. “You okay?” he murmured, his evergreen irises meeting yours.

“Always am.” You smiled softly. “What’s the verdict?”

Dean peered carefully at the cut, pressing tenderly around the edges with his fingers. “Yeah, needs a few stitches. Sorry, kid.” You closed your eyes, not wanting to feel the inevitable burn of tears. You never quite got used to this side of hunting.

You blinked the tears back as Dean threaded the needle and rummaged for some gauze.

“You ready?” he asked without looking up. You didn’t say anything, your eyes focused on the needle in his hand. “Hey.” He lifted your hesitant gaze to his eyes with a finger under your chin. He smiled softly, apologetically at you. “Don’t look, okay? Look at me instead.”

You took a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Okay?” You nodded, and he set to work. The first pull of the needle through your tender skin had you biting your lip, trying not to make a sound. You reached behind Dean for the fifth of whiskey and took a long draw, anything to numb yourself just a little.

“That was stupid, you know.” Dean’s eyes flicked to yours briefly before he refocused on his task. “Brave, but stupid.”

“I think you’re trying to thank me.”

“I am but- Jesus, Annie,” he paused to dab at your wound with whiskey-soaked gauze, “you can’t do something like that again. We…I nearly lost you today.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have.”

“Dean-”

“No, Annie, listen. My life isn’t worth more than yours.”

You were silent for a moment. When you spoke, your voice was barely audible. “Dean.” He didn’t look up, simply started on the next stitch. “Dean, stop.” He paused and met your eyes, his jaw clenched. “My life isn’t worth any more than yours, either. You’ve got to stop acting like it is.”

Dean quirked his eyebrows and looked down at your wound again. “Yeah, don’t count on it, kid.”

“My god, you’re stubborn. Haven’t you realized that losing you would wreck me just as much as losing me would you?” Dean’s head snapped up at that, his eyes bright, brow drawn in confusion.

“Annie…”

“No, listen to me, Dean.” You weren’t angry, but you needed him to understand. “When you belong to someone, to each other, everything goes both ways. Communication, love…pain. It’s shared. So please stop thinking that you’re not worth as much to me as you really are. I know I’m your world. Has it occurred to you that maybe you’re mine, too?”

Dean licked his lips and paused for a moment. “Y’know…I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He reached over and squeezed your hand. 

You smiled and lifted your joined hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled back, the corners of his eyes crinkling for the first time all night. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. You tried to deepen it, to pull Dean closer to you with the hand that wasn’t linked with his. Your injured arm protested, though, and Dean broke the kiss.

“Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” You nodded and let go of his hand to let him finish working. The pull of the needle through your skin was still uncomfortable, but the whiskey you downed earlier had taken the edge off. Six stitches later, Dean had finished and was cleaning the wound with whiskey again. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered at your sharp intake of breath.

“‘S okay,” you reassured him as he began wrapping your arm with a bandage. He ran his hand down your back, up over your shoulder, and let it rest there as your eyes bore into his. You leaned forward slowly, pressing your lips to his gently, just feeling his lips move against yours. He opened to you, letting your tongue glide against his lips, memorizing their shape.

You moved from your position beside him on the bed until you were settled on his lap, your legs straddling his. As Dean deepened the kiss, you shifted your hips, feeling the hardness through his jeans. “Hey,” he whispered. You hummed in response. “Sweetheart, stop.”

You pulled back to look in his eyes, your hands still tangled in the short hairs at the base of his neck. “What?”

He shook his head, his eyes closed, as if saying this took all his willpower. “We shouldn’t, not with-” He ran his fingers over your bandage, careful not to apply any pressure.

“Dean,” you murmured against his lips. “I promise ‘m okay. You’re not gonna break me. I swear.” You shifted your hips again, creating the lightest friction between your bodies. Dean groaned low in his throat. “Please, baby… I need you.”

Dean’s eyes flashed open, searching yours for any doubt. When he found none, he captured your lips with his once again, fighting for dominance. He wrapped one arm around your waist, the other coming up to tangle in your hair as he held you to him. He needed to feel you, to hold you, to know you were safe in his arms.

You stayed like that for a while, memorizing the taste of one another. You finally pulled back and stood up, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him up with you. You reached between you to unhook his belt while he undid the button of your jeans. Neither of your movements were hurried. You had nowhere to be, nothing to do. You had all the time you wanted to just be here with each other.

When all layers of clothing had been shed, Dean walked you back to the bed, helping you lay down against the pillows so there was no weight on your injured arm. He hovered over you, his eyes crinkling as he smiled down. You smiled back and reached your good arm up to trace the stubble on his jaw.

“I love you so much,” you whispered. Dean turned to press a kiss to your palm before leaning down to capture your lips again. He carefully lowered himself over you, one hand cupping your face while the other trailed down your side, ghosting over the curve of your breast, down to your hip. His hand rested on the soft flesh there, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your hipbone.

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please, Dean.”

His hand trailed lower, his fingers dancing over your warmth as your legs opened to him. He pressed one long finger into you slowly as you sighed into his mouth. He began thrusting slowly, adding a second finger. When you were panting against his lips, he withdrew his fingers to circle your clit, applying pressure at perfect intervals. It wasn’t long before you came undone, your body shaking as Dean’s fingers worked you through it.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered against your lips. You nodded, still breathless.

“I need to feel you, Dean. Please.” You were on the verge of begging, desperate to feel all of him. Dean shifted, slowly pressing into you, inch by perfect inch. You gasped as he filled you completely. He stilled, letting you adjust, waiting for you to guide his movements.

His brow creased when he saw tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked, concerned as he brushed your tears away.

You nodded and inhaled shakily. “I’m perfect. I can feel all of you inside me…just, please move, Dean, I need you to move.”

Dean pulled out slowly before thrusting forward again at the same steady pace.

“Oh, God!” you cried, more tears falling from your eyes. Dean leaned down and kissed them away. He moved slowly so you could feel every inch of him filling you over and over again.

Your heat enveloped him, pulled him into you until he was loving you as deeply as physically possible. He murmured your name, your eyes blinking open to gaze at him. He interlaced the fingers of his left hand with your right, holding tight as he continued to thrust. Your eyes locked on one another, looking into the other’s soul as your bodies moved together.

It was overwhelming. The love that moved between you was tangible, both of you giving and taking in this moment of connectedness. Everything you ever meant to tell the other was communicated through gasps of pleasure and deep longing looks into the other’s eyes.

You could feel the pleasure building deep in your core. “Dean,” you whimpered, afraid of the power of your building release.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Come for me.”

“I-I can’t-”

“You can. I’m right behind you.” He kissed you deeply and pulled back to look in your eyes. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Dean’s words ignited the fire in you. Pleasure coursed through every nerve as your release overtook your body. Your core tightened around Dean, pulling him into his own release. When you both came down, you were trembling, tears falling once again.

Dean rolled you both onto your sides so you were facing each other. He wrapped both arms around you and pulled you into him. Your bodies were hot, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be as close as possible to him in the aftermath of your love. He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, not wanting to overwhelm you any more as you calmed down.

“I love you, too.” You kissed his chest in response.

You laid there, wrapped up in each other, not caring about the passage of time. Though you were tired, neither of you wanted to sleep, content to simply exist in the presence of the other.

“Stay.” Dean’s voice broke the comfortable silence.

“I wasn’t planning on moving,” you murmured, your eyes closed.

“No, ‘s’not what I mean. Stay, like…promise me I won’t lose you. Promise me you’ll stay.”

You opened your eyes and gazed adoringly at him. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean. Not ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated!


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